love at first sight
theeflowerchild
treize
Sakura reports to Sasuke the next morning, all sweet smiles and pretty, pink hair pulled back in a neat ponytail. She places a file at his desk—a patient, he's sure—and on top of it a packet with notes on each page in her fluttery cursive. "You think you're finished?" he asks.
Her smile falters. "I do."
"I only assigned this a week ago," he snaps. He takes the packet all too roughly from her hands, begins flipping through it with his trained apathy. A week, he thinks, is just long enough that he knows she's done the work, just long enough that she's taken a professional amount of time to review and take note, but there is no time long enough, no time appropriate enough between seeing her. "Your notes are weak. Your response is short. Re-do it."
She swallows, and she's frowning now. She removes the packet from his hand. "Yes, senpai."
When she pauses for a moment, he raises an eyebrow. "Is that all?"
She nods her head, and leaves without a word. He fishes for the file she left him and reads through a boring list of symptoms: can't sleep, can't eat, can't focus—he snorts. Perhaps this patient is in love.
He fills out a prescription for a sleep aid, slips it in the folder and places it outside the door in the sleeve for outward mail. Somebody will pick it up; Sakura, probably, but he won't be here. He shuts the door behind him and wanders toward the cafeteria.
There are no awkward hours at the hospital; the cafeteria is always feeding somebody. Doctors, nurses, and custodial staff get what they can take, and fill up the dining area at any time of day.
It's bustling as usual. He buys a cup of coffee and sits wherever he can. He should be sifting through files right now, he knows. He should be updating prescriptions, updating his calendar for new appointments, updating his knowledge with the newest journals. Instead, he sips his coffee and feels his heart race in his chest, but never from the caffeine anymore.
It's too hot. It burns his tongue, and only makes the empty feeling in his stomach persist. He should be eating real food; he shouldn't be drowning himself in caffeine. He has patients to see, he can't become run down due to lack of sleep, lack of food, lack of air. He can't make it obvious how dark the circles under his eyes are, how paper thin his skin has become, how he swears he can see his ribs now.
He can't finish the coffee. He wanders to the nurse's station to collect his files on his own, and they're shocked to see him for once. Hinata smiles softly. "Sasuke-kun," she says. "How are you today? You look tired."
"I am," he agrees. "Has Tsunade left anything for me?"
"A few things, yes," she says. She grabs a large pile and hands it to him, and he knows he'll be here later than he's supposed to. "Sakura-chan was looking for you. She's been working very hard on that packet you gave her all week long."
He swallows, hard. "Has she?"
"Yes." Hinata nods her head, and begins clicking through the computer as she talks to him. "Such a bright girl, with two very bright teachers. Poor thing is having a bad day today."
He frowns. "Oh?" He prays it's not his fault.
Hinata nods again. "Between you and me," she whispers, "I think her little boyfriend broke up with her."
Sasuke tries not to choke on the air that's suffocating him. He doesn't know what hurts more: Sakura seeing somebody else, or somebody hurting her. "Boyfriend?"
"Well she's at that age, isn't she?" She clucks her tongue. "Let me tell you, Sasuke-kun, I'm hoping Boruto-chan stays a baby forever."
"Better off," he croaks.
"Anyway, will you be in your office?" Hinata asks. "Should I send Sakura-chan to you when I see her?"
Before he can correct himself, he says, "Yes." As he's stepping away, he adds, "Tell her to bring her packet."
"Will do," Hinata agrees, and turns away without a second thought, diving into her computer work.
Sasuke races back to his office, and shuts the door behind him. He isn't a man of many words or many emotions, but when Sasuke feels tears begin to well in his eyes, he crumbles to the ground with his life around him.
Sasuke brings himself off the ground with a knock at his door. His eyes widen when he realizes what time it is, and who is probably just behind his back. He jumps off the floor and races toward his desk, throwing the big pile of files into a mess before him. He slams into his chair and wipes his eyes. "Come in," he says, and fills his palm with his cheek.
Sakura steps in, and she's not smiling. Sasuke realizes, just then, how tired she looks: how dark the rings under her eyes are, how chapped her pretty pink lips look, painful. Her scrubs look messy, her hair looks frizzy, and for once, she looks almost too human, and almost too beautiful.
"You asked for me?" she says, and he realizes he's staring.
He nods his head, and backs up in his chair. "Right, yes," he catches himself. "Did you bring your packet?"
She nods her head.
"Sit, please," he offers, and she does. "I would like to…" he pauses, swallows, "apologize for earlier."
Her eyes widen. "You would?"
"Yes. I've been a poor teacher to you," he explains. "I should have walked you through what was wrong, not left you to fend for yourself. You did the work, and it was my turn to teach you."
When Sakura's eyes widen with the twist of her lips on her face, Sasuke knows he's done the right thing, and while spending time with her will hurt him, he will only ever be good to her education.
So, Sasuke teaches her. Sasuke spends the last hours of her shift working through her notes—almost all correct, all brilliant and observant. He teaches her to take shorter notes, to find the key information in the packets he gives her. He presents her with his own notes, presents her with more work and more information, and with each moment they spend together, he sees her spirits lift.
Before he leaves, he reminds her. "You're a smart girl, Sakura."
When she frowns, he's surprised. "Thank you, Senpai."
As she goes to step out, he calls after her. She stops in the doorway, and he asks, despite himself, despite what he needs, "Is everything alright?"
It's when she turns around that he's realizes she's crying.
His eyes widen. "Sakura—"
"I'm sorry!" she says, and begins wiping her eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"
"No, wait, Sakura—" She begins stepping out the door when he calls after her again. "Sakura, sit."
She does exactly what he says. He hands her tissues and lets her cry, watches the big, fat tears roll down her face and feels his heart crack with every sob. He's pretty sure—no, he's positive that seeing her cry might actually be the worst thing of all.
When she begins to calm down, she apologizes again, and again. "It's okay," he says.
"I just," she begins, and shakes her head. "It's been a long week."
"I'm sorry," he offers.
"It's not your fault," she says, though he knows it's partially is. He's been nothing but unneeded stress toward her since he's met her, nothing but hostility and annoyance in her path when he could have put his feelings aside and been a teacher, a mentor, the adult he's supposed to be. Tears begin to creep at her waterline again, and he wants to reach for her, to take her into his arms and kiss them away—but that's the real problem, isn't it? "I'm trying, I'm trying so hard, and—"
"It's okay, Sakura," he tells her.
"It's not." She shakes her head. "It's almost January," she says.
His eyebrows furrow in confusion. "Yes, it is."
"And—and—and—" She catches a sob in her throat, takes a second to catch her breath, to catch the tears in her eyes. When she's calmed down, she says. "What do I have to show for it?"
He frowns. "What do you mean, Sakura—?"
"I mean, I've done nothing," she explains. She sighs, and shakes her head, and throws her hands in the air. "I can't even annotate a medical journal. I'm graduating in less than seven months, no school has accepted me yet—"
"It's still early," he offers.
"Tsunade-shishou says it's getting late," she says.
"Tsunade says a lot of things," he corrects.
"Tsunade-shishou is my mentor, and I'm not good enough," she says, and she looks like she's about to cry again. He pushes the tissues towards her and she calms herself down once more. "I'm not good enough, for her, for you, for—"
"What would ever make you think that, Sakura?" he snaps. "Why would you ever think you're not good enough for—" He shuts his eyes, opens them, and takes a breath. "For Tsunade?"
"I'm struggling," she whispers.
"So it seems." His frown deepens. He watches her begin to cry again, but this time softly, this time with small tears and red cheeks. She puts her face in her hands and he allows her a moment to catch her breath and herself. Sakura is tragic, and Sasuke realizes why he's so in love with her.
He doesn't understand how two people can be so different, and so alike.
"I'm sorry," she says, again. "It's been a long week," she repeats. "I don't feel like I'm moving further. I don't feel like I'm working hard enough. I'm tired, and I'm hungry, and my boyfriend broke up with me, and—"
He cuts her off, because he can't hear anymore. "I'm sorry. You're working so hard, Sakura, and there's no reason to believe otherwise."
She swallows, and he can hear it in her throat, see it in her eyes. "Then why doesn't it feel like I am?"
If he knew the answer to that question, he's sure he wouldn't be feeling just that way, too. "Sometimes the rain is so thick, we cannot even see our own reflections. When the storm clears up, you'll be able see just how hard you're working."
"Thank you," she croaks.
"Try not to question yourself," he offers. She wipes her eyes, her cheeks, her nose, and the red on her face outdoes the pink in her hair. "That's where it all begins to fall apart."
"Thank you," she repeats, and she begins to stand. She gathers her packet off his desk and exhales loudly. "I'm sorry, again—"
"There is no need to be," he tells her. "We all need support sometimes."
She smiles. "I hope you're getting the support you need then, too, Uchiha-senpai."
Sasuke's mouth twists up into a smirk before he can catch himself. "Your shift is over, get the hell out of here."
She laughs, and she nods her head, and she apologizes, and she thanks him again, and again, and again as she shuts the door behind her.
When she's gone, Sasuke takes a few deep breaths, and begins sifting through some papers on his desk. He checks the clock that reads five. When he finds the card he's looking for, he wonders if anybody will answer on a Saturday.
It rings, and then a male picks up. "Oto General, how may I help you?"
Sasuke finds his mouth to be too dry, too suddenly.
There is a long pause. "Hello? Is anybody there?" the person on the other end of the line asks.
"Yes, sorry," he catches himself. "I… I'm looking for Orochimaru. This is Uchiha Sasuke."
He hears a shuffle on the other end, and until he hears the voice say, "Yes, Uchiha Sasuke—we've been waiting for you."
i can't believe I've been writing this story for almost four years lol, hope to finish this before the years end